


What More Can I Say? You Make Me This Way

by smoothsailing



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Handcuffs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, This is literally just sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 05:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16612772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoothsailing/pseuds/smoothsailing
Summary: hadn't written about these two idiots in a while. enjoy!Title from "This Way" by Khalid & H.E.R.





	What More Can I Say? You Make Me This Way

**Author's Note:**

> hadn't written about these two idiots in a while. enjoy!
> 
> Title from "This Way" by Khalid & H.E.R.

“Hey, move your feet,” Sascha says, swatting at Grigor’s ankles with his free hand, the other holding a freshly opened beer.

But Grigor refuses to budge, lying prone on Sascha’s couch. “Find somewhere else to sit,” he replies, a teasing smile on his face.

“Oh, tough guy thinks he can come over to  _ my  _ house and take up  _ my  _ couch like some King of the World?”

“It’s not  _ your  _ house, it’s yours  _ and  _ Mischa’s,” Grigor corrects. “And Mischa gave me King of the World rights today, right Mischa?”

Mischa picks the perfect time to walk into the living room, keys and phone in hand. He shakes his head and keeps walking. “I’m not getting in the middle of this. Actually, I’m getting out of here. See you guys later.”

“Bye, Mischa,” Sascha says.

“Traitor!” Grigor adds.

Mischa laughs, but doesn’t entertain them with a reply before he leaves. The door clicks closed, and Grigor turns his attention back to Sascha, who hasn’t moved an inch.

“You’re a brat,” Sascha says. He places his beer on a coaster and moves to hover over Grigor’s widely grinning face.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Grigor says, already reaching for Sascha as he lifts a leg to straddle Sascha’s torso.

“I suddenly can’t remember why I missed you so much,” Sascha muses, putting his hands on the arm of the couch, one on either side of Grigor’s head.

Grigor faux pouts, sticking out his lower lip as far as he can. His lips are a deep pink, his cheeks flushed through the perfect tan he managed to get over the summer. Sascha takes a moment to appreciate how Grigor somehow got even hotter, but is interrupted when Grigor says, “I’ll just leave, then.”

Grigor starts to move, but only the smallest amount before Sascha puts an end to it by moving one hand to his shoulder and the other to his hair, gripping tightly, and leans down so their noses are almost brushing.

“Like hell you are,” Sascha says, low and forceful, trying to sound bossy. He brings their lips together, just this side of too forceful. His fingers loosen in Grigor’s hair to stroke through more gently, but still firmly enough that he can keep him right where he wants him.

They’ve only been back in Monaco for a couple of days, and they’ve been too busy to even have time alone, let alone time to do this. Anticipation had been growing in the pit of Sascha’s stomach each day leading up to moving back here, to the place he’s starting to think of as his first home instead of his second. And when he had seen Grigor for the first time in a while, looking tanned, relaxed, and broad, his excitement only rose.

Now, making out like the desperate teenagers they once were, Sascha feels settled. He’s where he needs to be, with the ones he needs to be with. Everything is going to come flying at them faster than ever before, but they have each other. They have  _ this. _

“Grigor,” Sascha pants, breaking their kiss and Grigor’s wandering thoughts, “I missed you.”

Grigor’s chest clenches, his stomach doing a flip and his dick twitching in interest. He runs his lips up the side of Sascha’s neck, revels in the small gasp Sascha lets out. “I missed you too.”

And just like that, Sascha’s pushing Grigor up by his chest, and Grigor goes easily. He gets up and takes Sascha’s hand, pulling him to his bedroom. Sascha crowds close, pressing wide-mouthed kisses to the back of Grigor’s neck, making Grigor shiver.

They’re not wearing much for clothing - it’s been hot, and Grigor’s never been one for keeping his body a secret anyway - so it’s quick work to undress each other, despite how Sascha gets distracted with running his fingers over Grigor’s well-defined abs, pecs, shoulders. Sascha pushes them back to his bed, but Grigor turns them so when they fall to the mattress, he’s back to straddling Sascha.

Sascha smirks, close-mouthed, and looks up at Grigor fondly. It’s a look Grigor’s still getting used to, even after all this time. “Again, being a brat,” Sascha murmurs, but cups Grigor’s jaw, brings him down so they’re kissing again. Grigor pushes in more, desperate now that they’re naked and warm and don’t have to worry about staying quiet or getting interrupted. He rocks his hips down against Sascha’s as their tongues slide together, and the feeling is so familiar but so, so dizzyingly good.

They move together like they always have, like they haven’t spent agonizing months apart, FaceTime their only way of seeing each other’s faces. Grigor relishes in the fact that Sascha’s letting him keep the control; it’s not always Sascha who takes over, but it’s more often than not. But sometimes, Grigor just  _ needs  _ it -needs to be the one calling the shots, making sure Sascha is as happy as he can possibly be.

“What would you like?” Grigor whispers in Sascha’s ear.

Sascha runs his hands down Grigor’s back, over Grigor’s ass, gripping his cheeks firmly before moving back up to the small of Grigor’s back. “Anything,” Sascha says. “You.”

Grigor can work with that. He smiles, places a kiss to Sascha’s cheekbone, and pushes off just enough to reach for the lube and condoms from the top drawer of his nightstand.

“I’m gonna ride you,” Grigor says, matter-of-factly. By the way Sascha breathes out forcefully and bucks up his hips, he likes that idea, so Grigor decides to go with the rest of his idea and reach for the pouch he keeps just beside the lube in the nightstand.

Sascha’s eyes go wide when he realizes what Grigor has grabbed, and he smiles, just enough to make Grigor’s heart leap. “And just what are you planning on doing with those?” Sascha asks.

Grigor pulls out the two pairs of handcuffs, but doesn’t waste time playing around with them. He takes one pair in hand, taking Sascha’s right hand in the other, and properly closes the fuzzy cuff around Sascha’s wrist. Sascha offers no resistance as Grigor brings his arm up and affixes the other cuff to the bedpost. Grigor takes a moment to kiss Sascha slowly, softly on the lips, then makes quick work of Sascha’s other arm.

“Your move, captain,” Sascha says, and just like that, Grigor needs to make Sascha the happiest he’s ever been.

“You’re going to watch me,” Grigor says, uncapping the lube, “and just when you think I’m being too cruel, making you watch and not touch, I’m going to sit on your dick and ride you until you can’t remember your name.”

Sascha doesn’t even try to be coy, to hide that he likes that; he groans, but stays still, then replies, “Fuck, Grigor, get on with it.”

So, Grigor does. He starts with one finger, because as much as he wants Sascha in him  _ right now,  _ he has to be smart about this. Brisbane is too soon for him to be sore. Still, one finger doesn’t feel like much, especially when Sascha’s watching him, enjoying just this little bit of a show. One finger then quickly becomes two, and the angle may not be perfect but Grigor makes a show of it, letting his face fall to Sascha’s chest, sticking his ass high in the air for Sascha to see.

The handcuffs rattle, Sascha making the first show that he wants Grigor  _ now.  _ But Grigor’s not giving in, and knows Sascha isn’t expecting him to either. He looks up, makes sure Sascha’s watching Grigor’s fingers where they’re halfway into his hole, and slowly begins to press in and scissor them, hissing with the pleasure-pain that comes with the perfect stretch of his rim.

“Fuck, Grigor,” Sascha growls. “Add another, come on, don’t tease.”

“Thought I was calling the shots,” Grigor retorts, slowly moving his fingers in and out a few more times out of spite. But Grigor’s never been one to truly deny Sascha anything. He adds a third quickly. He’s getting dry, the lube not enough to make it easier to slide in and out. He doesn’t want to pull his fingers out, though, doesn’t want to ruin the image. Instead, he takes his other hand that he’s been using for balance and grabs the lube, makes sure he’s stable with his face on Sascha’s chest, and squeezes the bottle messily over his fingers, his hole. It’s pretty accurate, given that he can’t see what he’s doing, and Sascha nearly growls.

“So hot, so fucking hot,” Sascha mutters. Grigor grins, proud of himself for putting on a good show.

“All for you, babe,” Grigor replies, trying to sound composed even though he’s so turned on. “Only for you.”

With that, he starts fingering himself double-time, suddenly aware of how his dick is full and almost brushing against Sascha’s abs. He lowers himself just a bit, still keeping his ass up, but now able to get some friction against his needy dick. Pleasure shoots through his whole body as he manages to curl his fingers and hit his own prostate, and he loses his balance, his whole body falling onto Sascha’s, sliding forward so his own dick runs up Sascha’s chiselled abs.

At the same time, Sascha’s dick hits Grigor’s hand. It’s a reminder of what Grigor promised to do and a distraction from the mishap, so he decides to run with it. Pushing himself up with his free hand and pulling out of his hole with the other, Grigor gets himself upright and smiles down at Sascha’s blissful face.

“I think you’re just about ready,” Grigor says casually. “What do you think?”

Sascha nods fervently. “Please, Grigor.”

Grigor smiles. “Okay.” And he lines up, then slowly lowers himself onto Sascha’s dick.

It’s only once he’s halfway down does he realize he’s forgotten to put a condom on for Sascha, but when he looks at Sascha, nervous, Sascha just shakes his head.

“I’m safe, promise,” he confirms. “I couldn’t imagine being with anyone but you.”

Grigor breathes a sigh of relief. “Me too.”

They share the briefest moment to smile and process that, and then Grigor gets back to work.

Sascha’s dick is both thick and long, so Grigor’s feeling the stretch, sweating once he gets as far down as his body will let him. He starts to move back up, slow and steady, reminding himself that this will feel amazing soon enough. He just needs to get through the feeling of being so, so full first. Full of Sascha. Shit, that thought in itself had been enough to get Grigor through the offseason, and now he’s here, it’s happening, and it’s better than he could ever remember, imagine.

“Sascha,” Grigor whines as he lowers himself again. It’s so much; so good but so much.

“You look so good right now,” Sascha says in a voice almost so soothing it’s embarrassing. It makes Grigor flush all the way down his chest, his dick twitching again. “You have no idea how good, Grigor. Bouncing on my dick, letting me get inside you like I dreamt of all offseason. Shit, don’t stop.”

Grigor doesn’t stop. He speeds up, in fact, trying even harder now to look good, spreading his knees as far apart as he can to give Sascha a view of his dick going into Grigor’s hole, faster and faster now. It’s too much, it’s so good, that Grigor has to grab his own dick. He starts jacking himself to the rhythm he’s set up, getting as far onto Sascha as he possibly can.

“Sascha,” Grigor says again, more desperate this time. “Sascha, come on, make me come on your dick.”

Sascha groans and immediately starts thrusting his hips to meet Grigor in the perfect way. He’s getting so far into Grigor that Grigor can barely hold on, already seeing stars. It’s only a few more pumps and Grigor’s coming, all up his own stomach and chest, unable to keep moving up and down anymore.

Sascha slows his hips and lets Grigor just roll into it as he rides the waves, but Grigor knows he needs to help Sascha come, and soon. He reaches his hand out to where the pouch is and finds the key quickly, pulling himself off of Sascha’s dick every-so-slowly, then frees both of Sascha’s hands.

Grigor doesn’t waste any time other than to give Sascha a quick kiss on the forehead, then flips himself around, on his knees with his ass now in Sascha’s face.

“Come on, then,” Grigor says, trying to sound playful but just sounding desperate, needy.

Sascha doesn’t need to be told twice. He lifts himself up, grabs Grigor firmly by the hips, and starts driving home, deep and fast. It almost hurts, but it feels too good for Grigor to care at all. His hands clench in the sheets as Sascha starts to hold Grigor’s hips even tighter, and soon enough Sascha’s groaning and spilling inside of Grigor. He drapes himself over Grigor’s back when he’s done, and Grigor hums with contentment as Sascha starts placing quick, closed-mouth kisses over Grigor’s shoulder blades.

“You’re amazing,” Sascha says.

Grigor can’t help it; he blushes. “Look who’s talking.”

They shower together to clean up, which takes much longer than it should, but Sascha doesn’t mind in the slightest. Afterwards, they curl up in his bed, and put on a movie that they both fall asleep watching, not even halfway through.

Tomorrow’s the last day of offseason they’ll have off before everything begins again. Tonight, Sascha’s happy to sleep and to hold the person he missed for far too long.

 


End file.
